


Changes

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 18:19:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19729153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: A slice of post-Apocalypse life





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Get in the Good Omens van, loser, and read it. I’m Good Omens trash, and so are you.

Times were changing, and seemingly against all odds, they were changing with them. Surviving the Apocalypse will do that to a body though.  
It began with small things, like pebbles sliding down the side of a mountain. Aziraphale noticed, or he considered that he was just letting himself notice all of it now.

Before with Heaven always looking over his shoulder, it would have been too dangerous, but now, they had an unprecedented freedom from abandonment. That, and they were possibly being protected by the Almighty Herself. They both still had all their powers so God mustn’t have been too upset with them about the outcome. 

Crowley sat next to him more now. At first, the angel didn’t think anything of it, other than how lovely it was to have the demon so close. He noticed it was happening more frequently when Aziraphale realized that he was turning his head more to talk to Crowley, and that he was more used to his profile now. 

The rhythm of Crowley’s body language has always been a touch disjointed, even after all this time on two legs. It was like the demon had never gotten the real hang of joints. It was positively sinful how Crowley poured his lanky frame over furniture. He invaded as much space as he could, but all the while, still not touching.

In those moments, Aziraphale realized that he didn’t know how to ask, and Crowley didn’t know how much he could take. 

“Oi! What the hell are you doing?” Crowley yelped as Aziraphale ended up deciding for them one very eventful day. He did this by scooping the demon up into his arms before plopping them both down on the couch. It only took a moment to rearrange Crowley comfortably around him.

“I believe it’s fairly obvious, my dear.” Aziraphale said, “I thought we could sit like this for a bit...if you want to.”

“Yeah, alright.” Was about all Crowley could come up with, and that was the moment Crowley realized just how warm the angel was.

It was something that sat in the back of Crowley’s mind now, the demon thinking of all the ways he could get back to that sweet heat, especially when it was nippy out.

On such a day of wind and weather, Aziraphale had to be particularly careful, or else.

“Mr. Fell, are you alright? You look like you’ve just had a shock.” Mrs. Potter, the lovely sandwich lady from across the street, said as she watched the angel experience a sudden shiver.

“Oh, don’t mind me. Just a chill.” Aziraphale said, ignoring the icy scales of the mischievous little snake who was crawling up his trousers. Crowley must have snuck in while he was distracted by Mrs. Potter’s weekly update of gossip. Aziraphale never added to it, but he wasn’t above listening to it. 

“Looks like your gentleman caller is here. That’s his fancy car out there, right?” Mrs Potter said with a knowing little smirk. “You could always get him to help you out with that chill of yours.”

“You would think.” Aziraphale said, biting his inner cheek as Crowley figured out how to get in under all the top layers, a chilled underbelly gliding over his nipples while an delicate forked tongue tickled sensitive skin. “Excuse me!”

“Do you mind?” Aziraphale said as a tiny little snake head popped out from under his collar.

“Not at all actually.” Crowley hissed, ending his journey by circling around Aziraphale neck, contently warm under all the layers there and all the body heat trapped by them.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“The worst.” Crowley said sleepily.

“I’ll wake you up in time for dinner.” Aziraphale sighed, smiling as he patted his stowaway. 

Little things that they had kept from each other were also beginning to come to light.

“I’ve never killed anything.” Had been uttered once by Aziraphale. 

Which wasn’t exactly true at all. The Angel of Death was actually quite cross with the Principality, and had been so for some time now. 

It all began some 6,000 years ago when the Earth was still newish, and everyone was still trying to figure it all out. The same went for angels, Aziraphale abruptly landing on some poor unsuspecting shepherd who happened to be in the precisely wrong place at the precisely the right time. The angel looked down in dismay at the man he had just instantly killed. 

“Oh dear, oh dear.” Aziraphale said as he helped the bewildering man up. 

“What happened? There was this bright light...” the shepherd muttered, wondering whose blood the strange winged man was covered in, and then there wasn’t any blood or wings. Just an regular looking man wearing a very worried expression upon his face. The poor shepherd was not having a good day. 

“Sounds like sun sickness. Best to drink some water. Perhaps stay in the shade for a bit.” Said the man who had previously had wings, the shepherd was sure of it. He was also sure that he had just died too, so he was willing to overlook a few details. 

Another time, Aziraphale had been reading a particularly fascinating scroll while strolling through the halls of the Alexandria library. He knocked into someone cleaning a window, which might have been alright if the window hadn’t been several stories above ground. 

“You took a real tumble there, my dear, but everything looks to be alright.” Aziraphale said to the woman who had actually landed terribly wrong, the kind of which that had folded her spine in half.

“I thought I just saw my mother.” The woman mumbled.

“That’s nice...”

“But She’s been dead for ten years.”

“Er...”

Then there was that time when his bookshop was being built. While inspecting the structure on the second floor, Aziraphale bumped into some pour soul while going down the stairs, which had no railing or wall at the moment.

“Bloody Hell.” The carpenter with the formally broken neck said as he gingerly tested it out. “Thought I was a goner there. I was looking down at my own body, floating over it.”

“Anyone would feel dizzy after that fall, but everything is alright. No broken anything.” Aziraphale soothed.

“It’s the strangest thing though.”

“What?”

“My back and my bum knee feel better than new.” The carpenter said in disbelief, staring down at his hands. “I’ve even got my finger back. I chopped the damn thing off by accident years again when I was still an apprentice.”

“Will wonders never cease.” Aziraphale laughed nervously. 

Which is why in 1790, Aziraphale received a very strongly worded letter from a very pissed off Angel of Death about all his frivolous miracles. 

Crowley just found out today the reason why Aziraphale got such a letter, and he hasn’t been able to stop laughing, much to Aziraphale’s chagrin.

“It’s not that funny.” Aziraphale grumbled.

“Yes. Yes it is. You got a cease and desist letter from the Angel of Death because you kept accidentally killing people, and bringing them back.” Crowley couldn’t stop grinning. “You really brought it out of Azrael. I’ve never known a more patient angel. Just how many people were you killing?”

“Not that many.” Aziraphale muttered to be met with a Look. “It’s not my fault. They’re just so fragile.”

“Right. When’s the last time?”

“Portland Place.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“I was practicing the Gavotte...”

“You killed someone with your...what’s a Gavotte?”

“Ah, yes, you slept through most of that century. It was a lovely dance that has unfortunately fallen out of style.”

“Angels don’t dance.” Crowley said, loving his rebellious angel. “At least, they’re not supposed to.”

“This one does.”

“Not very well from the sounds of it.”

“You can do better then?” 

“Yeah, angel. It was a little thing called disco and the 70’s” Crowley smirked, “And I never once killed anyone doing it.”

“Good lord.” Aziraphale said, “I can’t imagine trying to dance to bebop.”

“We really have got to update your music.” Crowley sighed, already knowing it was a lost cause. Aziraphale was perpetually alway 50-100 years behind anything. 

“Says the demon who constantly plays Queen.”

“The Bentley does that all on its own. Not my fault anything left over a fortnight in the car turns into Queen so don’t start.”

More little things came into fruition, like how more plants seemed to dominate the bookshop. Most of them were strategically placed under window where all the best light was. Perfect for sunbathing if one were a snake. 

“You can leave me where I am.” Crowley halfheartedly grumbled as he was moved to warmer shoulders.

“Why would I do that when I can have my sleepy noodle hug?” Aziraphale said, kissing coils as Crowley settled in. The last bit made the snake rear up to look at the angel.

“You taught you that? Who have you been talking to?” Crowley practically demanded. 

“Oh, Adam and the Them popped in for a visit not too long ago.” Aziraphale said, looking quite pleased with himself. “I have an online presence now. I can twit.”

“It’s tweet, and no, you don’t. You don’t even own a mobile. What the hell are you even tweeting on?” Crowley asked, getting a very bad feeling about all this.

“Oh, I don’t. They do it for me, Adam and the rest of them. According to Anathema, I’m quite popular. Main stream, if you will.” Aziraphale said, “Crowley, where are you going?”

“I’ve got to make a few phone calls is all. Be back.” Crowley growled out, turning bipedal so he could properly yell at several someones. 

On the plus side, when it was all said and done, Crowley got a whole cache of Aziraphale photos which he hoarded on his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Your comments dance the Gavotte. Your kudos prefer disco.


End file.
